Sometimes, the person who tries their hardest to do what's right, who gives their all for the sake of what they believe is the greater good, fails, only to watch those who care nothing for such things succeed.
That, as a species, we resemble cancer more than anything else.
Sometimes, those who have the most love to give receive the least.
That so much of what we have been told is right is actually what others want to believe is right.
That life has no more meaning than a gift of a blank sheet of paper. What meaning you add to it is completely up to you.
Sometimes the blank sheet we are given is wrinkled, torn, blotched, or simply too small, while others receive a full, clean, beautiful sheet.
A wrinkled, stained, tiny paper with a lovely poem may be worth far more than a prestigious form full of accolades.
The act of birth is the first step of death.
Every person you love, every idea you admire, every place you cherish, every memory you hold, will eventually disappear.